I didn’t used to know what to do with anger, so I stuffed it down, closed it off. But you do great damage to yourself—mentally, physically, and emotionally—by trying to bury what you feel. I’ve done it. I know.
Anger needs air to flare…and to die. It needs to consume what caused it until there’s nothing left but ash, else it smolders on, weakening us from the inside out.
But it burns what it touches. It leaves scars.
Helping someone in the midst of it means risking the fire. You console those who grieve, calm those who panic, bring light to those depressed.
But how do you help those who burn?
Some turn away, but some run in. They don’t see the fire. They see you, burning.
Friends fight fires. They fight them with you. They fight for you. They give you air. They give you space.
They stay with you until the fire burns out.